


Trusses of My Heart

by Goneahead



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Disabled Danny, Disabled Steve, M/M, Mention of Spoons, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:27:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29567493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goneahead/pseuds/Goneahead
Summary: Danny and Steve meet at a rehab hospital. (Danny was disabled in the line of duty, Steve was disabled in a chopper crash)Finished forOne Million WordsWIP challenge.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 37
Kudos: 122
Collections: One Million Words





	1. Trusses of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asphaltcowgrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphaltcowgrrl/gifts).



> Note 1: To all of you who’ve pestered me to get back to this AU, thank you for being so patient--and so persistent. (and yes, I still owe y’all the rest of Home ‘verse)
> 
> Note 2: I decided it would be easiest to just repost the entire verse as one story in AO3. This started as one quick comment fic, then morphed into yet another AU ‘verse, so fic length varies.
> 
> Written/completed for [One Million Words](https://1-million-words.livejournal.com/) WIP challenge. Gifted to Asphaltcowgrrl for her help on betaing this. All remaining mistakes are on me.

Trusses of My Heart

~~+~~  


A  
space for  
your soul is  
carved, like a  
niche,

Here-  
under the  
spanning trusses  
of my  
heart.

~goneahead

~~+~~

“Hey, hold the elevator.” Danny rolled forward, caught the elevator door with a wheel. Glanced back at the man who’d been following him. Danny had been trained as a detective, and after three years of surgeries and what seemed like endless rehab, he could usually guess what was on another patient’s file with just a quick glance.

The guy was tall but thin, had the hollowed-out look of somebody who’d spent too much time recently in a hospital bed. His dark hair was shorn close, his left eyelid had a slight droop, and he walked with that uneven, disjointed gait of somebody who wasn’t quite sure where he’d left the rest of his body. Danny added it up. TBI—traumatic brain injury.

The one diagnosis that was just as bad as the letters stamped all over Danny’s file; SCI—spinal cord injury.

“Thanks.” The guy was obviously keeping his words to a minimum and the right side of his mouth moved faster than the left, confirming Danny’s hunch. As soon as the elevator doors closed, he made a grab for the rail on the wall.

The lab tech got off at the next floor, and it was just the two of them. 

Danny noticed how the guy’s knuckles whitened as the elevator moved again. Not being able to walk was a fucking bitch, but trying to walk with no sense of balance had to be its own special brand of hell. “So, who kicked your ass today, Jackie or Leigh Anne?” 

Something changed in the man’s eyes, as if he was taken back by somebody talking to him, instead of _at_ him. “Uh, Jackie.”

Jackie was definitely the best-looking of all the physical therapists, a pretty brunette with very _nice_ assets. 

“See? Now that’s unfair, somebody upstairs seriously hates me. You got Jackie, while I got stuck with Bruce.” His words had the intended effect, the guy actually cracked a ghost of a smile, and Danny thrust his hand out, "Danny Williams.”

“McGarret. Steve McGarrett.” Steve’s tongue tripped over his own name, as he reached out his hand, his grip tentative and unsure. 

Danny heard the echo of a clipped military cadence, added that to the picture. Carter Rehab Hospital sometimes took overflow from the V.A. hospital down the road. It seemed like nearly every vet that Danny’d talked to in the past couple of years was stuck in New Jersey with family that was miles—sometimes even several states—away.

“You know, they tossed my roommate back into the real world Tuesday.” Danny was careful to keep his hand still, let Steve release first. The elevator opened on the fourth floor, where most of the patient rooms were. He rolled out, winked at the aide who was standing at the nurse’s desk, filling out a chart, "Marge here would be happy to bring your lunch tray down to my room—if you don’t want to eat alone.”

"Oh I would, would I?” Marge put her hands on her hips, trying to frown at him and not quite succeeding, “You think I’m here to help you harass the other patients? You gotta watch this one, Steve. Danny’ll talk your ear off, if you let him.”

Another ghost of a smile crossed Steve’s face, but this time the smile lingered as he looked down at Danny, "That—that’s OK.”

~+~~


	2. Until the Storm Is Over

Until the Storm is Over  
~~+~~

Danny nudged his wheelchair closer to the table, setting out plates and silverware. Then he checked his phone again. He wasn't big on technology, but he was glad to have the weather app. At least this way he knew when a storm was coming.

He watched the radar for a second, the red splotch nearly on top of Honolulu. _Shit_. The funny thing was, Danny used to be a guy who liked thunderstorms, but now, thanks to Steve, he hated them.

Wasn't a fucking thing he could do to stop it from coming, either.

He sighed, dropped the phone in his shirt pocket, and wheeled over to the half-open French doors. 

"Salad's ready." He edged his wheelchair out onto the lanai. Although his chair had a narrow profile, he knew from painful experience that it was far too easy to hit his knuckles--or elbows, on the door frame. "How's the fish coming?"

"Almost done." Steve raised the lid on the grill. He was having one of his good days; his words were clear and ungarbled, and he'd managed to get through most of the steps of preparing dinner, with only a couple of gentle reminders from Danny. 

Danny raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the sky, noticing the first clouds gathering above the ocean, and mentally swore again. It _had_ been a good day--but it was going to be a lousy night. He looked at the clouds again, trying to judge how much time they had before the storm blew in. Enough time for dinner at least.

Steve checked the fish, and Danny noticed how he only hesitated slightly before reaching for the plate and the utensils.

So much for the damn doctors and all their fucking gloom-and-doom-predictions. In the past eight months, Danny had come to the realization that he was actually the luckier one. Having a spinal cord injury sucked, but it certainly didn't suck as badly as a traumatic brain injury. Steve not only had more crap to deal with, but for some reason, the entire medical profession seemed bound and determined to paint his future as black as possible.

Steve's main doctor, back in the rehab hospital, had actually argued with Danny, insisting that Steve should be shuffled off into an assisted living facility, because he would never be able to handle 'day-to-day tasks'. 

Danny waited, keeping one eye towards the sky, while Steve hesitated again, before turning off the propane for the grill, closing the lid, and picking up the plate. "Let's eat."

"After you, babe." Danny followed Steve into the house, wishing that idiot doctor could see Steve now. 

Admittedly, living in Hawaii had made a big difference. The sudden death of Steve's dad two months ago had been hard, but it'd also given them enough money to move to Honolulu--and a house that was already paid for. Not only did Danny get to see his daughter again, but Steve was doing a lot better, thanks to the familiar surroundings of the home he'd grown up in.

There was another bonus; Honolulu was a tropical paradise, a place that didn't get a lot of rain, or thunderstorms.

Dinner was good, even if Danny would've preferred something with more grease and calories, like a burger and fries. Grilled fish was healthier, though--and a lot cheaper. He and Steve had to make their disability checks stretch, and fresh fish was always a ready commodity in the island's thriving barter system.

As they cleared the table, the wind picked up outside. Steve put the stopper in the sink, and piled the dishes in. He glanced out the window--and froze.

Which was _exactly_ why Danny had put off telling him about the storm rolling in. He reached up, put a hand on Steve's back, keeping his voice casual, "I think it's going to rain. Maybe we should go upstairs, watch movies tonight."

Steve licked his lips nervously, nodded. Then he glanced back at the sink, and Danny could see his concentration had slipped. "Turn on the water, Steve."

Steve nodded again, turned on the faucet. 

This was one of those things people didn't understand. Or, in the case of Steve's sister, maybe they didn't _want_ to understand. Steve was perfectly capable of taking care of things--he just had trouble with breaking tasks down, figuring out what steps were needed to get there.

Once the water was running, Steve picked up the pattern again, added the soap, started washing the dishes, handing them to Danny. Danny dried, then stacked the dishes on the counter for Steve to put away. They were stuck in an odd catch-22; Danny could always re-arrange the kitchen so he could reach things, but that would force Steve to have to deal with a lot of unnecessary change. So Danny dried, and stacked, while Steve did most of the work. 

Normally, cleaning up after dinner was a comfortable routine, if a bit cramped. Somebody had the brilliant idea to build an island in the middle of the kitchen, which made moving around a bitch. He'd love to rip it out, but that meant paying somebody, which meant spending money, which was something they were both short on.

Today, Steve was tense, and not talking. He kept looking out the window as the sky darkened, and the wind began whipping the trees. Danny caught Steve's arm after he put the last plate away, ignoring the way his back wheel clipped the island, "Come on, babe, let's take this upstairs."

The stairs were another problem with the house. 

Well, actually it was the bathrooms that were the _real_ problem. The house was old, and the only bathroom big enough for Danny to use was the master bath, which was attached to the master bedroom, which naturally, was on the second fucking floor. 

Steve followed Danny into the living room, waited for him to transfer to the couch, then grabbed the wheelchair, took it upstairs. Returned a few minutes later for Danny.

Steve leaned over, and then remembered, "Ready?" 

"Sure, but I'd appreciate it if you would take it easy on the merchandise this time." Danny grumbled, never very happy about this 'solution'. At least he'd finally taught Steve to _ask_ , and not just grab him. Of course Steve made it seem easy, scarcely slowing under the weight as he carried Danny up the stairs. 

Danny was glad to know one of them was getting something out of all the time they spent doing PT.

Steve placed him in his chair, then hung back, so Danny could maneuver the narrow hallway, and squeeze through the equally narrow doorway. At least the master bedroom was roomy, especially after they'd shoved most of the furniture across the hall into Steve's old bedroom.

Danny slowed, finger running through the stacks of DVDs on the lone dresser that was left. He let his finger skip over the comedies, which were mostly his, and the action flicks, which were mostly Steve's, and moved onto the cartoons, which were Grace's. He saw the Disney movie he was looking for, grabbed it.

The rain started, a hard, loud drumming on the roof, and Danny quickly shoved the DVD in, hit play. He crossed the room to their bed, locked his wheels, and transferred. Steve gave him a questioning look, and Danny had to fight not to smile as he scooted back against the headboard. He knew that _Lady and the Tramp_ might be Grace's favorite movie right now, but that was only because Grace had picked up on the fact that Steve secretly loved it. 

"Yes, I'm watching a Disney movie." He grabbed a pillow, stuffed it behind his back, "And do you know why I'm watching a Disney movie? Because it's Friday night and you? Are a _lousy_ date." 

That pulled a slight smile out of Steve as he stretched out by Danny's side.They'd just gotten to the part where the Siamese cats were trying to eat the goldfish, when he heard Steve's breathing change, go shallow. A moment later, the seizure started.

He twisted, eased Steve down onto the mattress, keeping one hand on Steve's chest as he shook, arms and legs stiff, his jaw clenched, his eyes rolling back in his head. The seizure ended almost as quick as it had started, only for another one to start a few seconds later. 

Oh fuck, but Danny _hated_ this. He especially hated the fact that there was nothing he or the doctors could do. Steve only had seizures during thunderstorms and since the seizures weren't severe, there was no good reason to put Steve on anti-convulsants.

There was absolutely nothing he could do but wait. 

He counted the seconds off in his head, making a note of the length of each seizure, so he could put it on the tracking log later. After the seventh one, Steve's breathing changed again, as his body went slack, and his eyes half-closed. 

That was Danny's cue. 

'Easy babe, I got you. I'm right here." He ran his fingers through Steve's hair, letting the words spill out, not really paying attention to what he was saying. The pounding of rain on the roof stopped, and time seemed to stretch out endlessly, as he kept his touch light, his words low and reassuring. Then, _finally_ , Steve gave a couple of jerky kicks, opened his eyes. 

He blinked in confusion, mumbling something unintelligible.

Danny continued to run his hand through Steve's hair, his fingertips finding the familiar scar over Steve's right ear, the odd half moon ridge where they'd put the steel plate in. Did a quick glance down, but there was no tell-tale wet spot on Steve's cargo pants, so that was at least one thing they could skip tonight. 

He gave Steve his best teasing smile, "What? I'm sorry, did you just ask for sex?"

Steve's eyes focused then and Danny let his smile widen, "See? This is what I've been talking about. You, my friend, have a one track mind." He was rewarded with an eye roll and a snort. "All right, come here, you." He scooted his ass around, man-handled Steve until he was half-sitting up, making sure to keep up a steady stream of words because he knew how much Steve hated the lack of control he had over his body after the seizures. "What the hell are you eating, anyway? It's no wonder I'm always having to buy groceries. Between you and Grace, I might as well just go pour food into the Grand Canyon."

He got Steve settled against him, head against his shoulder. Steve mumbled something else, and Danny didn't catch that either, but he got the gist, "What, now you want me to shut up? Is that it?" 

Steve nodded, and Danny did a quick double-check to make sure he was comfortable, then wrapped an arm around him, and reached for the remote control. He hit the back button, even though he knew Steve would be nodding off in a few minutes. "There. Happy? You know, those cats are damn annoying."

Steve snorted again, and Danny turned his head, pressing his lips against Steve's cheek, quietly acknowledging what he knew Steve was really trying to say. "Yeah, yeah, I know, shut the fuck up."

~~+~~


	3. One Wave at A Time

One Wave At a Time  
~~+~~

Danny double-checked the contents of the duffle bag, zipped it shut. He hadn't packed this much crap for a day out since Grace had started walking. He was being extra cautious, though--he'd been waiting to spring this surprise on Steve for two weeks and he wanted everything to go smoothly.

It was hard to believe tomorrow would be one year. OK, technically, it'd been fifteen months since Steve's chopper went down, killing everybody but Steve and one other SEAL. Tomorrow, though, would mark the one year anniversary since Steve had come out of his coma. Not that Danny had been there. He still couldn't imagine how hard those first couple of months in the Portsmouth Naval Hospital must've been for Steve, waking up alone with no family or friends nearby. At least Steve had finally been selected for the pilot program, moved to the same rehab hospital as him.

He heard steps, looked up and smiled to himself as Steve came down the stairs in a T-shirt and board shorts. Three months of living in Hawaii had done wonders for Steve. He was at a healthy weight now, and tan and fit from swimming in the small cove behind the house. 

Well, Danny wasn't sure if it could be called swimming yet. One of the problems associated with Steve's injury was his brain had problems coordinating the two sides of his body. After lots of PT he could walk, and even climb stairs without it being too noticeable. It figured that the one thing Steve couldn't quite seem to master would be swimming, which was the one thing he loved to do. 

Steve reached the ground floor, stopped. "I'm dressed. Where we going?"

"Where _are_ we going." Danny corrected, automatically, "And it's a surprise--here, take the bag."

Steve walked over, licking his lips nervously, and Danny dropped the bag in his own lap, turned his chair so he could grab Steve's hand. "Hey, you trust me, right?"

"Yeah." Steve said it, but he had a panicky look in his eyes, and Danny's stomach twisted.

He knew pushing Steve to get out of the house and out of his comfort zone was necessary, but he hated seeing Steve so anxious. He squeezed, then let go and handed Steve the bag. "It'll be OK, babe. You're gonna like it; I promise."

He rolled through the kitchen, into the garage. Their car was an ugly Chevy minivan, but it had hand controls and was affordable--two things that were hard to find in a vehicle in Honolulu. Danny transferred himself to the driver's seat, waited while Steve loaded his chair and opened the garage door.

It would be nice to have an automatic garage door, but that was money they didn't have. He backed out, and turned on the radio while Steve closed the garage door. He found Steve's favorite station, wincing because some idiot was strumming a ukulele and butchering 'House of The Rising Sun'. He didn't get why every Hawaiian singer felt the need to take perfectly good songs and ruin them by making them 'Hawaiian.' 

Of course, Steve got in, and immediately started mouthing the words.

"Traitor." Danny edged out of the drive, into the street. "This is _not_ rock; this is a travesty."

He not only got the smile he'd been hoping for, but Steve began singing along as well. He did pretty well, too--only garbling a couple of words and in the safety of the car, with only Danny listening, he wasn't even self conscious about it.

More proof Danny had been right, and all of those dumbass doctors back in Jersey had been fucking _wrong_.

It took fifteen minutes and several more butchered songs to reach their destination. Danny slowed at the sign for Pua’ena Point, catching Steve's look of surprise when he put on the blinker, and turned down the drive leading to the beach.

He laid a reassuring hand on Steve's knee, "Hey, I told you, you're going to like this. Trust me, OK?"

Steve nodded, but began fidgeting as soon he saw the crowds of people along the beach. Danny found the red truck he was looking for, and the license plate matched the one he'd been given. Which meant the two guys leaning against the truck had to be Garth and Kamekona.

He parked a couple of spaces down, killed the engine. Steve reached for the door handle just as a family walked by, and immediately froze.

He squeezed Steve's knee, keeping things simple. "Steve, we're here. I need you to open the back, and get my chair out."

Steve nodded, and got out, went around to the back and opened the tailgate. A moment later, he brought the chair around, and Danny transferred. That was when Garth and Kamekona walked up.

They were volunteers for a group that provided surfboards and assistance for people with spinal cord injuries who wanted to surf again. Danny hadn't been sure if they would be willing to help Steve, but once he'd explained things, they'd immediately, and rather enthusiastically, bent the rules.

Garth and Kamekona both were doing a double take, and it dawned on Danny that he'd been so busy explaining about Steve, he'd never told them about his own disability.

Kamekona recovered first, stuck out a hand, "You must be Danny."

He shook it, "I am. And this is Steve. Steve, Garth and Kamekona are going to take you surfing."

"We sure are." Kamekona held out a wetsuit. "We even brought a wetsuit for you."

Steve froze again.

Danny unlocked the back door of the minivan, pushed it back. Kept his instructions simple, but clear. "Get in the van, Steve. Take off your shirt and shorts, and put the wetsuit on."

Steve bit his lip but took the suit, while Garth and Kamekona exchanged a look.

Danny reached to close the van door, but Kamekona got there first, closed it for him. "Sorry about that, I forgot. I guess I should've been more clear."

"Yes, you should’ve been." Danny was actually kind of glad they'd seen Steve lose his concentration. Steve generally knew what he _wanted_ to do, but his brain couldn't always break the task down into logical steps--especially when he was stressed.

"Won't let it happen again." Kamekona looked suitably chastised, "You know, we could take you out surfing, too."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Steve's the one who--"

"Danny! Hey, brah, long time, no see!"

He twisted, saw Chin walking up, carrying a cooler and an umbrella. Next to him was a slender young Asian woman.

"Chin, hey, good to see you." He immediately felt guilty. He'd met Chin at John McGarrett's funeral, but never got around to calling the guy back once they moved to Hawaii. "Sorry I never called."

"No problem." Chin set the stuff down, leaned over and engulfed him in a hug, "I'm sure you've had your hands full, moving clear across the country. I want you to meet Kono, my cousin."

She waited for Chin to let go, and then hugged Danny as well. "It's good to finally meet you. Oh, and the Chief says you've been ducking his calls."

Kamekona rocked back on his heels, "You know the Chief of Police?"

"No, but I used to be a cop back in New Jersey." This was not where Danny wanted the conversation to go. He didn't know what the Chief wanted, but he suspected it was because he'd been shot on the job, and frankly, he'd already had enough attention and award ceremonies to last him a lifetime. "You're a cop, too?"

"Yep." Kono put her hands on her hips, all fresh-faced rookie pride. "I got my badge two months ago."

The door of the minivan opened and Steve got out. He frowned, "Chin?"

"Yeah." Chin reached out to hug him, stopped when Steve stiffened. He settled for putting a hand on Steve's shoulder instead. "I heard Garth was taking you surfing and I figured you could use a wing man. You remember Kono? Short, used to wear braces?"

Kono elbowed him. Hard.

"You deserved that." Garth flashed Kono a grin, "OK, let's get Danny closer to the action, then we'll get Steve in the water. He looked down at Danny, "You mind?"

He shook his head, but hit the button for the tailgate, "No, but I'll need the bag in the back."

"I'll get it." Chin pulled the bag out while Garth picked Danny up, and Kono grabbed his chair. He looked over, saw Kamekona was glued to Steve's side. Good. Steve had pretty much mastered walking on sand, but he was so anxious right now, it was best somebody was there to spot him.

Garth stopped a few feet short of the waves, waited for Kono to unfold Danny's chair. He set Danny down, "What else do you need?"

"Shade." Chin thrust an umbrella in the sand, dropped both a small cooler and Danny's bag beside it. He popped the umbrella open, "There's cold water in the cooler. You need anything else?"

Chin had obviously put some thought into meeting them today, and Danny was grateful. And feeling even more guilty. "No, but look, I really am sorry I never called you back."

"You've been taking care of Steve, that's all that matters." Chin put a hand on Danny's shoulder, while his gaze followed Steve's slow progress to the water's edge, "You still owe me that dinner, though."

"It's a deal."

"I'm going to hold you to that." Chin went down to join the others in the water, where Kamekona was giving instructions. The surfboard was long, designed so a person could lie down and hold on to the handles at the nose--or bow, or whatever the front of a surfboard was called. Garth and Kamekona took it slow, letting Steve paddle out slowly, getting used to being on a surfboard again. Even lying down, though, Steve was struggling, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.

Danny balled his hands up in frustration. Normally, he could intervene, say something to get Steve to refocus, but there wasn't anything he could do this time but sit helplessly on the sidelines.

Then Chin leaned over, said something to Steve.

Whatever he said, it did the trick, got Steve to calm down. A couple of minutes later, Garth steered Steve into a wave. Danny didn't know a thing about surfing but it sure looked like he was lining the board up wrong--

The wave swept in, and Steve caught it neatly, riding it almost all the way to the shore.

Chin and Kono were waiting in the shallows, which was a good thing because Steve lost his balance, and the board flipped over. Kono grabbed the board, and Chin grabbed Steve.

Who was _laughing._

Danny's heart clenched and clenched hard. Steve didn't laugh--there were some days he was lucky if he could coax a few smiles out of the guy. He relaxed and fished a bottle of water out of the cooler, settled in to watch. He assumed that Garth and Kamekona would take Steve out a few times and that would be it. 

He was wrong. 

Garth and Kamekona and Chin and Kono were all clearly enjoying themselves just as much as Steve was. He also hadn't given any thought to the camaraderie among surfers. Surfers began drifting in to check out what was going on and a lot of them either stayed to spot Steve as he rode in, or to take a turn swimming out with him. And Steve was having too much fun to realize just how many people he was hanging out with--

"You must be Danny Williams."

He pulled his thoughts back. A man in his late fifties, with the hair cut and posture of a seasoned cop was walking towards him. "My name's Duke, Sergeant Duke Lukela." He glanced down at the gawky teenage girl at his side, "And this is my granddaughter, Akela. Go, see your friends--but stay in sight."

She took off, heading towards a gaggle of other girls who were further up the beach.

He watched her go with a small, fond smile, then turned his attention back to Danny. "They grow up so fast, don't they?" It was a rhetorical question, because he kept talking, "Chin told me I might catch you here."

Wonderful. Now HPD was stalking him--just want he needed. He put the water down, held out his hand anyway. "It's good to meet you, sergeant."

Duke's expression turned into amusement, "I'm not here to bother you, I swear--I'm here to ask you to come work for HPD."

"I--what?" He wasn't sure he'd heard right. In fact, he was pretty sure he _hadn't_ heard right. And Chin must've seen Duke, because he was now coming up the beach toward them.

"We could use you at the Academy. The city's growing so fast, we can't train officers quickly enough--especially since we don't have the instructors we need."

For a moment, Danny imagined what it would be like to not have the constant worry and stress of trying to make two disability checks last for an entire month. It would also be nice to get out of the house occasionally, do something that would make a difference--

Then he looked down the beach, saw Steve riding another wave, and reality crashed in. 

Chin walked up, "Did he tell you about the Chief's offer?"

"I can't." He hurried on, before they took his refusal the wrong way. "Steve's doing better, but he's not ready to be left alone, not even for a few hours." 

Duke followed Danny's gaze. "It doesn't have to be full time, and we're willing to work with your schedule. Kim Chun runs our Victims Services; I could call her, hook you up with an organization that provides respite care and other services."

His knee jerk reaction was to refuse; he didn't want anyone else taking care of Steve. But he'd also been a cop, so he'd been on the other side, trying to make families understand it was OK to use respite care, have somebody to come in for a few hours.

He hedged, undecided, "You're desperate, aren't you?"

"To be frank? Yes. We already have some of our retired cops picking up a few classes here and there to get us through the crunch. We could use an experienced homicide detective at the Academy." He paused, his gaze landing on Steve, who was now in the shallows. "There's also the fact John McGarrett was a good cop--one of the best, in my opinion. And we take care of our own."

"I have a suggestion." Chin opened the cooler, pulled out a bottle of water for himself, offered one to Duke. "One of my aunts owns a garden shop over on Kalani Street. Maybe Steve could help out there while you're teaching--he seems to do all right once he gets into a routine."

Danny just sat there for a second, caught completely off guard by the idea of both him _and_ Steve working. And yet.... it seemed doable. Chin was right, a lot of the work at a nursery had to be routine stuff, like watering plants and loading things for customers. He might have to push Steve to do it, but it'd certainly be good for him. "Let me talk it over with Steve and I'll get back to you."

Duke pulled out a business card, "Here's my number; you can call me directly."

"I will." Danny waited until Duke walked off, looked up at Chin, "Thank you."

"No problem, brah." Chin's expression was smug--proof that he was the one who'd brought Danny's qualifications to HPD's attention. "My aunt likes to cook, too; maybe we could have that dinner you promised me. Give Steve a chance to meet her."

Danny blinked, as he realized he'd been set up. Shit. Chin was a sneaky bastard, who'd planned _all_ of this. "Sure, why don't I check our busy schedule, see when me and Steve can pencil you in."

Chin grinned back at him, "You do that."

He eyed the guy for a second, but he had to ask, because curiosity was getting the better of him. "So, what did you say to Steve earlier?"

"John McGarrett was my training officer." Chin took a sip of his water, "I just told him what John always told me."

"Which was?"

Chin's grin widened, "Get your fucking head in the game, or I'll put my boot up your ass." 

"Really? _That's_ your idea of motivating somebody?"

Chin capped the empty bottle, put it back in the cooler, while amusement danced in his eyes, "It worked, didn't it?"

It had, but...

Danny watched Chin walk back down to the water, wishing once again he could find a way to like Steve's father--especially now the guy was dead. He couldn't let go of his anger, though. A _real_ father would've been there for Steve, especially those first few months.

He sighed and pushed away the anger, turned his attention back to Steve. Who was high-fiving Kono.

Danny sat there stunned for a moment. Ten months. Ten months of trying to get Steve to interact with people and apparently all it took was a surfboard and some waves. He shook his head, and settled in again to watch.

~~+~~

Danny stayed in the slow lane on the drive home, occasionally glancing over at Steve, who was sacked out in the passenger seat. He'd fallen asleep as soon as he'd gotten into the car, and Danny was glad he'd had the foresight to cancel Steve's PT tomorrow. They'd have to unfold the couch in the living room, too--there was no way Steve could navigate stairs tonight. He hated sleeping on the couch, the mattress was lumpy and uncomfortable, but today had been so worth it.

He smiled as he thought about Steve--laughing, surfing, hanging out with other people. He'd even hugged Chin before they left, and Steve never wanted to be touched by other people.

There were the job offers, too.

He chewed his bottom lip, because they could use the extra cash, but he couldn't help but worry. Was Steve even ready to be around strangers yet? And what about all the PT and OT and their appointments? How were they going to juggle all of that _and_ two jobs?

He stopped for a traffic light, and Steve stirred, blinking awake. Damn, but Steve looked cute, hair sleep-mussed, eyes bleary with sleep.

"Hey." He reached over, ran his hand through Steve's hair, which was getting too long. Next time they were on base; he'd have to make sure Steve got a haircut. "We're almost home."

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, mumbled something.

The light changed and Danny reluctantly dropped his hand, turned his attention back to the road, "Sorry?"'

Steve spoke slowly, over-enunciating each word, "Kamekona said we could go out again next weekend."

He noticed Steve was careful to not phrase it as a question--Steve hated having to ask for stuff.

"If he has time, sure; I don't think we have anything planned." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Steve looking at him. "What?"

"I want to." There was a pause, while Steve stretched, while giving a jaw-cracking yawn. "Go to Grace's school."

Oh for the love of--

Over a month ago, Grace had asked if Steve could come to her school for some unit they were doing on Pearl Harbor and the naval base. Steve had been completely freaked out by the request, and Grace had been crushed, and Danny had spent a very _long_ weekend stuck in the middle between them.

He took a deep breath, let it out as he turned onto their street. "Grace is coming over Wednesday, after the field trip. You can tell her then." 

The unit had ended last Friday, but Grace's teacher loved having guests, so he was sure she'd be thrilled to have Steve show up--even if it was a couple of weeks too late.

"I can do the job, too." Steve's tone turned accusatory, "I heard Chin talking to Kono."

"Of course you can do the job." He covered his surprise as best as he could, as he pulled into the driveway. He parked, killed the ignition. Twisted so he could look Steve in the eye, "Listen, I don't know what you overheard, but I never said you couldn't. Chin asked me, and because we're partners, I told him I'd have to ask you."

It was Steve's turn to be surprised. "You did?"

"Yes, you big goof." He dropped a hand on Steve's knee to reassure him, "Here's the deal; HPD wants me to teach a couple of classes and Chin suggested you could work for his aunt. I think it's a good idea, but we're going to have to work out--" He stopped when Steve yawned again. "And we're both tired; we can talk about this tomorrow."

Steve dropped his hand over Danny's, leaned over and Danny met him halfway. Steve smelled like sun and surf, and there was sea salt on his lips. And at the end of the day, this all that really mattered--him and Steve. He closed his eyes and let the kiss sweep everything else away.

~+~~


	4. Curveball

Curveball  
~~~+~~

A red sports coupe cut him off and Danny clamped down on the hand brake, swearing. There was no heat behind his words, though. He was in a good mood--a great mood actually.

His first class of detectives had made it through today's autopsy without puking. He'd been worried, but only a couple of them had turned green around the gills when the medical examiner started slicing and dicing. He'd even received a backwards sort of compliment from Max afterwards; "I am impressed. This is the first class that has asked questions that are somewhat intelligent."

He pulled into the nursery, found a parking space. Toast, one of the other nursery workers, was loading several bags of dirt into a customer's hatchback. He finished, gave the customer a friendly wave, then jogged over to the minivan.

Danny rolled down the window, "Can you tell Steve I'm here?"

"Don't have to, brah." Toast's grin widened, "He's in the west greenhouse. I called back there as soon as I saw you drive up. How was cop school today?"

"It was good." Danny reluctantly let the 'cop school' comment go--he had better things to do than argue semantics with some kid who was OK with being nicknamed after a breakfast food.

Toast jogged over to another vehicle to load some large frondy-looking plant and Steve came out a moment later. Danny watched him with a small smile. Having a job had definitely helped Steve--he threaded his way through the busy parking lot, only flinching twice from being too close to somebody.

"Here." Steve slid into the passenger seat, handed over a small wad of bills.

Technically Steve didn't make any money working at the nursery. After a lot of bureaucratic wrangling, the VA classified Steve's job as 'occupational training'. It meant Steve didn't get a paycheck, but he got to keep his disabled status. Steve, however, was doing pretty well on tips--which Danny suspected came mostly from the female customers.

Danny counted the bills--close to $40. He slipped the money into his pocket, "Do you want to go to Liliha's? I feel like celebrating. We made it through the last training module today. If they do OK on their fake cases, I can graduate these guys."

Steve nodded, and Danny backed out, edging the minivan back into traffic. Glanced over at Steve. Usually Steve had some story to tell about the shop or the customers. Today Steve was quiet, chewing his thumb, staring out the window.

Danny frowned. That was never a good sign. He pulled into the diner's parking lot, killed the engine. "Hey, Steve?" He waited until Steve looked at him. "Is lunch too much today? We can go home if you want."

"We should have it." Steve's tongue stumbled a little over the words.

_They should have what?_ Danny was lost. "Have what?"

"The party. At our house."

Even with all his skill at deciphering Steve's sometimes scrambled speech, it took Danny a couple of seconds to make a guess at where this was going. "Are you saying you want to have the graduation party at our house?"

Steve nodded.

"Uh, OK." Danny eyed him. Steve was a lot better at tolerating people, but he still got antsy whenever they had any visitors over except Grace or Chin. Danny suspected it was because the house was Steve's safety net, a familiar place where he could just relax. "Babe, are you sure? Because there will be a lot of people."

"Yeah." Steve thrust his jaw out, and Danny recognized the stubborn glint in his eyes. "I want to."

"OK, sure." Danny gave in, but he already had a sinking feeling in his gut. "Thanks. You're right; I'd love to have the party at our place."

Steve nodded, opened the door, "Good. I'm hungry."

Danny waited for Steve to get his wheelchair, while he tried--and failed--to come up with any plausible scenario where Steve would be able to handle an entire house packed with people. 

_Crap._

~~+~~

"Let me get the door."

Danny put one hand on a wheel, braked. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Meka, one of the other instructors. "Thanks. Hey, is Wednesday still on?"

He'd gotten the staff memo about happy hour--sorry, _pau hana_ \--at 'Pete's Bar and Grill' last week, and immediately deleted it. Steve's announcement yesterday, though, changed everything.

"Yeah, of course. We've got two birthdays to celebrate." Meka stepped around him to open the door, "Three, actually. It's my wife's half-birthday."

"Half-birthday?"

"Yep. We both love getting gifts, so we decided to celebrate our birthdays every six months." Meka declared this as though it was completely rational behavior. He followed Danny through the door, fell in step beside him. "Why? Are you coming tomorrow? Don't you have to take care of your partner?"

Danny tried to think of a simple way to explain why he was asking, but came up short.

"Hey? Is something wrong?" Meka slowed, "I know we've only been working together for a few months, but you realize you can talk to me, right? Is it Steve?"

"Sort of." He turned into the tiny break room, which was, thankfully, empty. "Steve thinks we should have the graduation party for the detective class at the house. Which would be fine if he didn't have problems with crowds. And people he doesn't know. And noise in general."

"But Steve's working now, right? At that shop that Chin's aunt runs."

"Yeah. But when he gets overwhelmed, he can always duck into one of the greenhouses in the back. If we have a houseful of people--not just people, but very noisy, very loud people--anything could happen." Danny's stomach was twisting into knots just thinking about it. "I thought maybe I could--"

"Bring Steve tomorrow? Kind of like a trial run?" Meka nodded. "That's a great idea--especially since Pete's is usually slow on Wednesdays."

"Are you coming to pau hana tomorrow?" Sergeant Kara Boyd walked in, heading straight for the coffee maker. "Don't you have to take care of your partner?"

Danny eyed her for a second, because it was the same phrasing Meka had used. He'd noticed the other instructors never asked about him and Steve, but he'd always assumed they were just being polite. Now he was wondering if a memo had been sent around.

"Danny's going to bring Steve." Meka straightened, moving out of her way. "So he can get used to crowds."

"Not going to be much of a crowd at Pete's." Kara dumped a ton of sugar into her coffee. "There's some new bar across the street that does beer-tasting on Wednesday nights--what?"

Meka shot Danny an amused look, "That 'new bar' she's talking about? It’s been there since I was a rookie."

"Shut up, kid. I was arresting--"

"--criminals when I was still in diapers. Yeah, yeah. I know." Meka was struggling not to crack a smile. "You think you and Big Ed can help?"

"Why not? It'll give Big Ed something to do, besides glare at the bartender." Kara took a sip of her coffee, made a face and dumped in more sugar. "Guy used to date his daughter--was it second or third?"

"Third, I think--Tracey. You know, the one that moved to Seattle and settled down with that real estate guy."

"Why in the hell are you talking about my daughter, Meka?" Big Ed walked in at that moment, turning sideways to slide past Danny. A former Marine who now taught hand-to-hand, Big Ed was literally a walking mountain of muscle.

"We were just telling Danny here why you don't like the bartender at Pete's." Kara stepped aside so Ed could get to the coffee pot. "He and Steve are coming tomorrow."

"Yeah?" It came out as more of a grunt as Ed sniffed cautiously, then reluctantly poured himself a cup.

"And we were thinking you could help," Kara kept on talking, "Danny wants to get Steve used to crowds."

"Don't have to worry about crowds at Pete's." Ed took a swallow of coffee, shuddered. "Geez. Who keeps making this crap? We're in fuckin' Hawaii--" He stopped when Kara gave him a look. "OK, got it. How can I help?"

"We just need to make sure Steve has some space, right?" Meka glanced at Danny for confirmation."Keep people from crowding him."

"That would help, yes." Danny wasn't sure if it would help, but at least he felt better knowing that he wasn't going to be the only one keeping an eye on Steve tomorrow night.

~~+~~

Danny finished buttoning his shirt, angled his chair so he could see his reflection. Hr straightened his tie, ran a hand over his hair, smoothing an errant cowlick, and then--he just sat there.

On the way home, it had dawned on him that tonight would be the first time he'd been in a bar since the shooting four years ago. When he'd been a detective, he'd been in McGovern's, the well known cop bar in Newark, a couple of times a week. But now...

He missed it. Danny liked working at the academy, but it wasn't the same. He missed being a cop and he missed the guys in his old homicide unit. Only one of them still dropped him a note from time to time, and that was Vince, retired now and living somewhere in Florida.

He gave himself a mental shake. Sitting here wasn't going to change things--or help him deal with his _other_ problem. He'd asked Steve earlier if he still wanted to go to Pete's, and Steve had immediately jumped to the conclusion that Danny didn't think he could handle tonight. 

He backed out of the bathroom, being careful not to knock his knuckles on the door frame.

Sure enough, Steve was sitting on the bed, glowering at the wall. He turned his glare on Danny. "I can do this."

Danny took a deep breath and reminded himself, again, that this wasn't personal. A lot of people with brain injuries had mood swings, although with Steve it was more like--like he sometimes just got stuck.

"Of course you can." He winced at how overly cheerful he sounded. "But we've still got nearly an hour to kill before we have to leave, so how about some hockey? I taped last night's game." He waited for a long moment, then added, "Come on, I'll make us popcorn. With real butter."

"OK." Steve got to his feet. "I can do this, Danny."

He nodded, careful to keep his frustration out of his voice. "I know you can, buddy. Let's watch the game and then we'll go."

~~+~~

By the time the second period ended, Danny was saying a silent thank you for the National Hockey League. One of the teams was having an off night, and instead of getting their shit together, they kept picking fights instead. It was exactly the kind of game Steve needed, distracting him enough to lose his earlier anger.

Danny waited for the announcers to cut to a commercial, then reached for the remote. He hit the mute. "You ready to go?"

Steve nodded and Danny turned off the TV, transferred himself to his chair. "What'd you think of the game?" It wasn't a casual question--Steve's first occupational therapist had suggested Steve should talk about any TV show he'd just watched as a way of improving both memory and speech.

Tonight, Steve was stumbling, barely able to talk about the basics of the game, even mixing in some football terms. By the time they hit the highway, Steve had fallen silent.

Danny pulled into the slow lane, glanced over. "Steve? Are you OK?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Steve stared out the window for another minute, then turned, "How long do we have to stay tonight?"

It was one of those times when Danny found himself in the weird predicament of trying to ignore one of their earlier conversations. Obviously Steve didn't remember how angry he'd been. "We can leave whenever you want to."

"But--you wanted to go tonight."

OK, so apparently, Steve also didn't remember--or hadn't understood--last night's conversation.

"You know the graduation party we're having at our house?" He waited for Steve to nod. "I thought you might want to meet some of the people who're going to be there."

"The cops you work with."

"Yes." He couldn't figure out the odd look on Steve's face. He turned his eyes back to the road, took the next exit. "Look, we only have to stay as long as you want."

Steve fell silent again, and Danny sighed inwardly, but let it go. He found the street and turned into an eclectic assortment of bars and nightclubs; there were several older, rather grungy bars mixed among newer, hipper places. He spotted a parking spot, zipped in front of a Honda, and nabbed it.

Steve spoke then, his hand landing on Danny's knee. "You--you don't want to do this. Tonight."

"No, going to a bar isn't high on my list of things I wanted to do tonight. But I promised, and--" He checked his phone, "I have a million voicemails, which means everybody called to be sure we're still coming. This? Is why I hate cell phones."

"Danny." Steve gave him a sidelong look, "You know bars, bars have pool."

He stared at Steve dumbfounded for a second. There'd been a battered pool table at the rehab center back in Jersey, and a couple of more at the VA center in Honolulu. What'd started out as a way to help Steve with his hand-eye coordination quickly devolved into a friendly rivalry--and sometimes a way for them to make a few dollars off an unsuspecting opponent.

Then he laughed. "Deal. But we take no more than twenty dollars--I got to work with these guys, remember?"

"No." Steve smiled back, tapping the side of his head, "I can't remember."

"You're not funny."

"Yes."

"No, you're not." Danny said it just to watch Steve's smile widen even further. And he had to admit--Steve's plan? Was a _definite_ improvement over his.

~~+~~

"No, I'm sticking with water, thanks." Danny actually wanted a beer, but the minivan was a piece of shit that drove like a brick. Adding alcohol into the mix seemed like a colossally stupid idea. It'd been probably been equally stupid to let Steve have a beer, but this was the closest either of them had gotten to 'normal' for a long while.

The waitress turned to Meka and Kara, who both took a bottle.

"I'm good." Big Ed held up the beer he'd been nursing, "You didn't warn me that tonight was going to cost me fifty dollars." He looked down at Danny, his usual deep grumble replaced by a more amused one.

"What can I say? New Jersey boy and a SEAL; you knew what you were up against." Danny winced as Meka's wife scratched. "Ouch."

Big Ed clapped his hands together. "Come on, Steve! I've got ten bucks riding on you!" 

Steve shot him a smile, then picked up the cue stick, started sinking balls, closing one eye to focus.

Danny frowned at that. Steve had stopped talking several games ago, and now he was definitely struggling with his depth perception.

Big Ed caught his eye, raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Danny nodded and Big Ed waited for Steve to sink the last ball, then finished the last swallow of his beer, "Sorry, guys, but I told my wife I'd be home at a decent hour."

Meka caught on, straightened. "Yeah, and we promised our baby sitter it would only be a few hours. Let me just pay my wife's _massive_ gambling debts, first." He passed Steve a ten dollar bill.

Steve smiled again as he passed the money to Danny. Danny immediately handed it to their waitress, along with another ten. "Put this towards the tab. We're calling it a night as well."

The handicap exit was through the side door, so he went towards it, saying his goodbyes to the other instructors, while Steve trailed behind him.

"Hey, Steve?" 

Danny stopped as he reached the sidewalk, spun.

Big Ed had come out the front door. "If you ever want a tour of the academy, call me, OK?"

Steve nodded, looking sideways at Danny for help.

"Yeah. We'll talk about it, check the calendar." Danny filled in, and then couldn't resist throwing out, "Maybe he can give you some tips on your game, too."

Big Ed gave a bark of laughter. "Or maybe I'll win back my money." He headed for his car and Danny spun around again, heading towards the mini-van. 

He pulled out his keys, hit the unlock button. "Get in." Steve frowned, and Danny shook his head, "I got it. You're drunk, get in."

He jumped the curb, went around to the driver's side. It was always a little awkward when he had to do everything himself--transfer, then twist, sliding the wheelchair behind his seat. He hit the button to close the sliding back doors, and then closed the driver's side door. 

"Not drunk. I only had one beer."

Danny had to guess what Steve was saying; it was too slurred to be clear. He really shouldn't have let Steve have that beer, especially when they were already up past their usual bedtime. "Anything you say, babe." He started the engine, then nosed into traffic. "Hey, Steve?" 

Steve made an odd sound that Danny was going to interpret as a grunt.

"Tonight. Did you have fun?" He couldn't believe he was saying this, but he'd also seen how Steve had calmed down, relaxed after the first hour. Maybe he was being too protective; maybe he needed to push Steve to be more social. "Because we could do it again--if you wanted to." He waited, got one of those silences that told him Steve wasn't ready to answer the question yet. "Besides, we made almost 75 dollars tonight."

Steve said something.

"Sorry?"

"Twenty. For. Beer." Steve was enunciating each word, his tongue still tripping over half of them. "Stupid."

"Great.” Danny hit the access ramp, entered the highway. It was a crystal clear night, and there were almost no cars on the road. He stuck to the slow lane anyway, setting the cruise control to the speed limit. “I'm the designated driver, you're drunk, and now you're going to call me names? Seriously?" 

Steve slouched down in his seat, half-closed his eyes. "Really. Stupid."

He put a hand on Steve's knee, squeezed. "Shut up."

“No.” Steve’s hand covered his. 

“Yes.” He turned his hand over, fingers intertwining Steve’s. “Now get some sleep—idiot.”

~~+~~


	5. All or Nothing

All or Nothing  
~~+~~

I cannot  
offer to meet you  
half way. I can  
give you only this,  
All or

\--nothing.  
The sleepy  
tangle of wants and  
sheets, mumbled whispers  
carried on the hushed  
edge of mornings.

Arguments, and  
tender words, and  
questions carved from  
the shadows cast by  
our own hearts.

Questions that  
demand truth, as we  
rub, denim against  
denim, faces half  
hidden in each  
others' shirts,

I cannot  
offer to meet you  
half way. I can  
give you only this,  
All or

-nothing.

~goneahead

~~+~~

(Thursday) “Detective Williams?”

Danny was just about to enter Ke Kula Makai, HPD’s police academy. He braked, and turned. A big guy, in a maroon shirt, and black cargo pants jogged up. 

He stuck out his hand, “I’m Lou Grover.”

“Sergeant Grover, right?” Danny shook his hand, “You run S.W.A.T.”

“Yeah, but just call me Lou. I’m also a rep for the police union, and um, look,” Lou seemed--embarrassed? “I want to ask you something, and feel free to tell me no.”

“And you can call me Danny. What’s going on?”

“When the Chief hosts the cadet parties, some of us from the union offer to pitch in, do yard work before the parties.” From the way Lou said it, Danny suspected the Chief made sure the “offer” wasn’t really voluntary. “The guys think it’s unfair that we’re not doing yard work for you, too.”

Danny could see how Lou was being put in an awkward position. Some people could be pretty anal when it came to their lawns, and might take offense at the offer.

Personally, Danny was just happy to have the help. His neighbor’s son cut their yard every two weeks for a few extra dollars--and to be honest, they were getting exactly what they paid for.

He gave Lou a friendly smile, “You know, I would’ve moved to Honolulu a lot sooner if somebody had told me the local union also does lawns.” He pulled out his keys, worked off the one that fit the shed’s lock. “Here’s the key to the shed. I’ve heard from reputable sources there are tools and a mower in there.”

“You’ve heard?” Lou took it with a baffled look.

“The problem with backyards is they aren’t typically ADA compliant.” Danny put a hand on one wheel, keeping his tone as light as he could. “If you have any problems, our neighbor across the street borrows tools sometimes, so he also has a key.”

Lou nodded, “I’ll bring it back to you this afternoon.”

“Why don’t you drop it off with Meka or Big Ed? I’m only working until lunch--my partner’s got a doctor’s appointment.” Danny winced inwardly as soon as he said it. He really needed to stop defending his short work days. HPD had hired him knowing he had to stay under 30 hours a week--so he could continue to qualify for his disability check from his old department.

“Your partner’s Steve, right? McGarrett’s son?” Lou didn’t even hesitate at the word ‘partner’. “How’s he doing?

Danny shrugged, kept it simple. “He’s getting better. These things take time.”

“Well, McGarrett was one of the best--I’m glad Steve’s got you looking out for him.” Lou held up the key, “I’ll drop this off with Big Ed once we’re done.”

Danny thanked him, then entered the building. Hopefully, Lou could make the front yard look like it hadn’t been badly mowed by a fifteen-year old. And one of Kono’s cousins was giving the place a good cleaning this afternoon. That left the catering, which Meka was handling--and Steve. 

Danny had to admit, Steve had surprised him last night. Maybe he needed to push Steve more, stop being so protective? Fuck, he really wished there was an easy answer--

He saw Meka ahead of him in the hall. Danny resolutely shelved his concerns about the party, and turned his thoughts to the presentation they were giving this morning. “It's good to know that trying to seize a vehicle in Hawaii is just as much of a pain in the ass as trying to seize a vehicle in New Jersey.”

“Yeah.” Meka laughed, “My old sergeant used to call it black magic--you have to practically sell your soul to seize a vehicle legally, and even then, nobody really knows how it works.”

~~+~~

The pharmacist put the meds on the counter. “Do you need me to go over the instructions?”

Steve glanced sideways at Danny, his eyes begging for help with the question.

“We’re good, but thanks.” Danny took the meds. As soon as they stepped away from the counter, he pointed at a couple of chairs in the corner, which were set up for blood pressure readings. “Steve, go over to the chair, and sit down.”

He really, truly hated Steve’s doctors. Danny had intentionally scheduled only one doctor’s visit for today. Steve had to work at the nursery in the morning, and Danny knew they would also be dealing with the usual long wait at the pharmacy to refill meds.

Of course, one of Steve’s other doctors had taken it upon themselves to add another appointment, to “save them having to make a second trip”. What should have been a short check-in had turned into two hours of sheer stupidity, thinly disguised as medical expertise.

Danny had also gotten another of what he was calling the ‘asinine doctor lectures’. This one was about how Danny needed to start accepting how Steve couldn’t do this or that, all said within Steve’s earshot. The only good thing to come out of today’s B.S. was Steve’s main doctor was extending the O.T.--Steve’s work at the nursery--for another full year.

Steve sat, and Danny pulled a sports drink out of the bag he’d brought with him. He’d been trying something new the last few months--and so far, it’d been working. “Drink.”

Elena, one of their neighbors, was a retired nurse. She stopped to say hello one day while Danny was checking the mail, and he’d mentioned Steve was inside, trying to sleep off a headache. He’d expected a sympathetic answer, but what he got was a question. 

_Are you watching his electrolytes?_

Elena had then explained to Danny that Steve’s injury made him very susceptible to electrolyte imbalances, which could be fixed by the same tricks athletes used; fluids, snacks, cooling the body down. It figured that after a year of seeing doctors and specialists, the most helpful medical advice would come from their seventy-three year old neighbor.

Danny waited until Steve took a few sips, then handed over a bag of trail mix. Just then, an employee walked up. 

“Is everything all right?” The woman was talking in a super polite tone that confirmed Danny’s suspicions--apparently a customer having a snack in the middle of the pharmacy was breaking some petty rule.

Danny flat out lied. “He’s hypoglycemic.”

“Oh. Um, well.” The woman became flustered, “I guess that’s OK.”

She left, and Danny glared at her retreating back. He looked back at Steve--whose eyes were openly laughing at him. 

“I’m so glad I’m amusing you. Let me guess, you just drag me along for entertainment purposes, is that it?”

Steve swallowed the handful of trail mix he’d been chewing. “No.” He took another sip of the drink, spoke again, enunciating carefully. “And chauffeur.”

~~+~~

Steve fell asleep almost as soon as they left the base. Danny drove slower than usual, and took the longer route home. It was a little underhanded--but Steve needed the nap.

Eventually Danny turned onto their street, “Babe? We’re almost home.” 

He almost didn’t recognize their house. He’d expected a mowed lawn, maybe even proper edging. But Lou and his guys had also tackled the overgrown landscaping beds; trimming and thinning out the plants--and had even planted new flowers in the borders.

“Wow.” He pulled into the drive, and noticed the crew had also removed the two dead tree limbs that had been hanging over the driveway. “What do you think, babe? Maybe we should throw ourselves on the mercy of the police union more often.”

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, then just sat there, his jaw clenched tight. 

Danny reminded himself that it had been a long day, between working and the appointments--plus they’d stayed up late last night. And now Steve had come home to change, which he _hated_.

“Steve? I need you to open the garage door.”

Steve got out silently, opened the garage door. He waited for Danny to drive in, then went around and got out Danny’s chair. He closed the garage door and walked into the house. Danny sighed, transferred himself, and followed Steve inside. 

And stopped.

Kono’s cousin was a miracle worker--the house wasn’t just clean, it was spotless. There was a note on the fridge, and Danny slowed to read it. 

_Also did the laundry :) Dinner’s in the fridge!_

Danny opened the refrigerator, found the container. He pried the lid off--some kind of chicken casserole? “I have no idea what supper is--but it smells amazing. I’m going to heat this up, all right?”

Steve was staring out the window. He said something, but Danny couldn’t make out the words.

“Steve?” He waited for Steve to look his way, “Are you hungry?”

Steve nodded, then added, “I can--can make it.”

“OK, knock yourself out. Pull down two blue bowls.” Danny turned to get the silverware, swearing inwardly when a wheel hit the damn island.

A few minutes later, Steve carried their bowls to the table, while Danny followed with napkins and utensils. “Our drinks are on the island, can you get them?”

Steve nodded again, went back into the kitchen. Danny frowned at Steve’s back. He couldn’t figure out if Steve was just tired--or if he was being extra quiet for a reason.

He waited until Steve returned with their drinks, and sat down. “Steve? You want to talk about it?”

“I should… able to… to do that.” Steve mumbled the words, but Danny was able to pick out the gist of what he was saying.

“Screw what that doctor said. He’s the same asshole who thought you shouldn’t take the job at the nursery.” Danny watched something shift in Steve’s eyes at his words--shit, he should’ve said something earlier instead of rushing them off to the pharmacy.

Damn, he hated military doctors, and their damn lectures and assumptions.

“Look, babe--go for it. We have somebody who cuts the grass, why can’t you take care of the front beds? And if you feel like it, maybe you can even do something to put the backyard out of its misery.”

“Not me. You. You have the--the black thumb.” Steve’s tongue stumbled over the words, but the teasing tone was enough. 

“I slave over a hot stove to feed you, and this is the thanks I get?”

The joke coaxed a real smile from Steve. “You… didn’t cook. This. Tastes better, too.”

~~+~~

Ever since Danny had taken the job with HPD, their lives had slipped into a comfortable routine. Monday through Thursday, Steve worked at the nursery for six hours and Danny worked at the Academy.

On Friday, Danny worked from home, and Garth or Kamekona would swing by, take Steve out to surf. 

Danny rolled into the guest room that had been turned into a makeshift office. Tried to rub the kinks out of his back as he logged on. Since Steve was too tired to manage carrying him up the stairs, they’d had to make do with the couch, and the mattress was lumpy and uncomfortable.

His phone vibrated. He checked; Kamekona--calling an hour earlier than usual. “Detective Danny Wiliams.”

“Hey, Detective Danny. We’re gonna get malasadas before we go surf. Thought Steve might want to join us.”

“Let me get this straight. You guys have grabbed lunch the past two weeks, and now breakfast this week--are you surfing or eating?”

“Little of both, brah.” Kamekona said something to somebody else, came back on the line. “So you’ll tell Steve we’ll be by in about ten minutes?”

“Will do.” Danny hung up, “Steve?”

A moment later, Steve came into the office, “Yeah?”

“Kamekona’s picking you up early--he wants malasadas.” Danny pulled his wallet out, took a couple of bills from it. “Here, don’t spend it all in one place--my boyfriend works his ass for his tips.”

Steve took the cash, and pocketed it. He leaned over, putting a hand on Danny’s chair to steady himself, and stole a quick kiss. Danny kissed him back, surprised by the sudden affection--

The doorbell rang.

Danny pulled away reluctantly. “I guess ten minutes actually means ‘now’.”

Steve nodded. He left to answer the door, and Danny only half-listened as he pulled up the spreadsheet he’d been wrestling with--

“Detective Williams?”

Danny turned slightly, saw Lou standing in the doorway. He held up the key to the shed. “I wanted to return this.”

“It’s Danny--and come on, spill.” Danny wheeled around, took the key. “I’m guessing this is an excuse to talk to me about something?”

“It is.” Lou smiled, sat down on the small loveseat pushed against the wall. “I couldn’t help but notice that this place isn’t very accessible.”

“Yeah, well, we’re on a few waiting lists.” Danny shrugged. Making the house more accessible was currently at the very bottom of their priorities. Now he was getting a second paycheck, they were slowly catching up on house maintenance--and they still needed to find some way to swing a new roof next year.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Every spring, we get together with the fire department, tackle fixing up a couple of homes. Usually firefighter or cop families that need a little extra help.”

Danny dropped a hand on one wheel. He wanted to turn down the offer--but this wasn’t just about him. He could think of several improvements that would also make Steve’s life a lot easier. Like an automatic garage door opener, for starters.

Lou gave him a slight smile, continued talking. “I’ll be honest, I’m doing this for totally selfish reasons--HPD’s really hurting when it comes to both detectives and the burglary department. I’ll pretty much do anything to keep you living here in Honolulu.” 

“All right, fine, you twisted my arm.” Danny worked the key back onto the keyring. “And before I forget, thank you. The yard looks amazing.”

“You’re welcome. The assistant fire chief--his dad’s a contractor.” Lou pulled out a card, “I already told him you might be calling him. He’ll come out, figure out what needs to be done, write up the job for us.”

Danny took the card, just as the doorbell rang again. He listened, heard Kamekona’s distinct laugh. 

He shuffled through folders, found the print out, “While I got you here, let me pick your brain. The FBI has decided to change it up; they’re offering some new courses for next year. We’re trying to figure out which ones would be most useful.”

“I see a couple we could definitely use.” Lou looked up from the list, “Before I forget, I heard you and Meka put together a new presentation on vehicle repo. Is there any way you could pack it down to around 15 minutes? Me and some of the sergeants would love to be able to use it for our team meetings.”

“Sure. I’ll talk to Meka, see what we can do.” Danny handed a highlighter over. “Here, mark the three courses you think would be--” 

The doorbell rang again.

“Excuse me--apparently, my house has turned into Grand Central today.”

“It’s all right, I should be heading back to headquarters, anyway.” Lou highlighted the courses,laid the print out on the desk, and trailed Danny to the front door.

Danny opened it, “Hi, Kono.”

“Hi, Danny, Sarge.” Kono looked up at Lou. “Got a couple of minutes to help, Sarge?”

“Sure.” Lou glanced sideways at Danny, clearly amused at being commandeered by a rookie.“What do you need?”

Kono was already walking to a truck that Danny didn’t recognize. She waved a hand at the jumble of patio stuff in the back. “My aunt said she promised you this stuff, once she moved into her condo.”

That had been nearly two months ago, and to be honest, Danny had forgotten about the offer. “You know, I’d lend a hand, but I kind of want to see a sergeant actually doing some work.” 

“It’s OK, brah, you just sit there and look beautiful.” Kono teased back.

Kono and Lou were efficient, quickly unpacking the truck, and setting everything up in the backyard. Five patio chairs, a good size table, three end tables--and two hammocks.

Danny watched from the lanai. It was a lot of furniture--and maybe this was actually a good time to get it. _If_ things went OK at the party tomorrow, they could start doing some cookouts for his fellow instructors and Steve’s surfing group. 

Kono walked over, grinned up at him. “What do you think?”

“I think I’ve never seen anyone tie a knot that fast. If they ever decide to include hammock wrestling as an Olympic sport, you’re all set.”

Kono’s grin widened, “I need to return my uncle’s truck, but I’m going to crash the party tomorrow.”

“I got to go, too.” Lou waved, then followed her around the house, and Danny rolled back inside.

~~+~~

Danny had been told, repeatedly, he was lucky to have taken a bullet so high up. Less strength is his arms and shoulders, more control over his dick and ass. At least that was the theory--in reality, things with his body were a lot more hit and miss.

He was dragged out of sleep at four am by a pressure, a sensation he’d never quite gotten used to. He eased himself out of Steve’s arms, and scooted over, flipping on the small lamp. Fumbled for the urinal and the catheters he put on the end table earlier.

He was almost finished when Steve rolled over, opened his eyes. He mumbled something, not quite awake enough to get his brain and his tongue to connect.

“I’m OK.” Danny answered anyway, “Sorry I woke you.”

Steve shook his head, got to his feet slowly, his movements loose and disjointed. Danny noticed, but mostly he just enjoyed the view. Steve preferred for them to sleep naked, and he had to admit there were definite benefits to sleeping commando. In the shadows cast by the small lamp, Steve was fucking gorgeous, his tanned body lean, but muscular.

He picked up the urinal, and Danny could hear him walk to the bathroom, flush the toilet, come back. He set the urinal on the end table, crawled back into bed, curling against Danny. It had been a year since they met, and yet Danny still found his heart clenching at how badly Steve craved his touch.

Danny got it. During the day, Steve needed to feel independent. At night, it was a different story. He wrapped an arm around Steve, tugging him close. He was about to reach for the light, when his dick decided to think about becoming interested. 

Steve shifted, made a small questioning sound.

“Yes, but you’re going to have to work for it.” It was an old joke, one that they tossed back and forth, thanks to Steve’s bad days and his own fucked up nerves.

Steve’s eyes locked on his, and he huffed a half-laugh against Danny’s lips.

Fuck, but Steve was a great kisser, hot and messy and rough, and Danny gave as good as he got. Steve kept stopping to nip, teeth teasing down his neck and shoulders, until his damn dick finally, finally found half mast.

“Want.” Steve dragged in a breath, “want… try--”

“You want to try something?” Danny stole another kiss. “Mmm. Guess I could allow it…”

Steve gave another soft huff, then reached down, moving Danny’s left leg, so he could press even closer. He shifted again, his cock rubbing against Danny’s.

He spit-slicked his hand, wrapped his fingers around both of their dicks, started jacking them both off, and, oh holy shit, it felt _amazing._

"Fuuuck.” Danny swore, his hands digging into Steve’s biceps. Steve took it slow; his hand twisting a little, while he continued to tease with his teeth, tiny love bites across Danny’s shoulders--

The sensation suddenly barreled through Danny like a freight train and he came hard and fast, spilling over Steve’s fist.

“Fuck.” He flopped against the bed, panting. “Holy fuck, babe. You’ve been holding out on me.”

Steve grinned down at him, his cock still hard and leaking. 

Danny grinned back. “I want you to fuck me.”

It was always awkward. He grabbed a couple of pillows, but Steve did most of the heavy lifting. Helped him flip onto his stomach, then put his hands on Danny’s hips, tugging him down, into position.

Steve skimmed a hand across his shoulders, asking.

“Yeah. I’m good.” The position hurt a little, not really painful, just a dull aching pressure right in the middle of his back. Steve leaned over, and Danny could hear him pulling the lube from the drawer of the end table.

Danny closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax as Steve prepped him. He could sort of guess what Steve was doing, but everything quickly dissolved into an uncomfortable mix of cold and sharp sensations. And totally worth it for what was coming next.

Six and half years was a long fucking time to go out without sex--and yeah, he craved it the same way Steve craved being touched.

The sensations stopped, replaced by a warm pressure on both hips that he knew were Steve’s hands. Danny opened his eyes, propped himself up one elbow, “What are you doing back there? Waiting for Christmas?”

Steve laughed, actually laughed, a golden happy sound that made Danny’s heart stutter. Then he dropped down, wrapped an arm around Danny’s chest; his lean, hard body pinning Danny’s down, as he began fucking him. 

It wasn’t exactly a pleasant feeling, his nerves were a little too screwed up for that. But holy fuck, it was hot as hell. He closed his eyes, enjoying the raw, hungry sounds Steve was making. Steve holding him like this, easily supporting himself with the other arm, fucking him into the mattress. 

Steve gave a long low groan, shuddering through his climax. He pulled out, then half-fell, half-rolled off of him. Turned his head so he could bury his face against Danny’s shoulder.

The dull ache in the middle of Danny’s back was becoming more insistant. He shifted, trying to ease the spot, because he wanted to enjoy this just a little longer.

Steve’s hand skimmed down his arm, a silent question.

“I would say I’m OK, but you are most definitely trying to kill me.” He grumbled--and smiled when Steve dropped a kiss against his skin.

~~+~~

It figured Meka would hire a loud, boisterous family to cater the party. Both Meka and Amy were busy talking to the women who ran the catering service, so Danny backed out of the kitchen to check on Steve.

He found him on the lanai, arms crossed, leaning against one of the posts. He put a hand on a wheel, slowed, concerned. “Steve?”

He turned. “I’m OK. I’m wa-” He stumbled over the word, tried again, “waiting for Chin. I asked him… be my wingman.”

Danny stared at him, his heart doing an odd little lurch, because Steve _hated_ asking for any kind of help. Steve grinned, clearly enjoying having surprised him. 

He reached up, tugged on Steve’s wrist, until he uncrossed his arms. “So this ‘holding out on me’ isn’t a one time thing.”

“No.” Steve was _still_ grinning, as he entangled his fingers with Danny’s.

That grin undid him. Danny still remembered the days when he could barely get Steve to smile. He dropped a kiss on Steve’s knuckles. “I love you, babe.”

“OK, you two lovebirds.” Kono opened the patio door, juggling three beers. She held two out.“Here.”

Danny squeezed Steve’s hand, let go to take a beer. Steve took the other one, and leaned against the column again.

Kono dragged over one of the folding chairs they had borrowed from the academy. She sat down, kicked off her shoes--and propped her feet on Danny’s legs. He looked at her feet, back at her.

“What?” She gave him a mischievous smile, “It’s not like you’re using them, brah.”

Steve choked on his beer. 

“Great. I’m a footstool, and you’re trying to kill my partner.”

Kono stretched out more, took a pull of her beer. “Naw, he’s a SEAL, and I’m just a rookie--as you keep reminding me.”

Chin walked out with a beer then--and also looked at Kono’s feet. He shook his head, put a hand on Steve’s arm. He steered Steve down the steps and out into the backyard, and it dawned on Danny that Chin and Kono had planned both the delivery, _and_ the placement of the patio furniture, so Steve could have a place to hang out away from the party.

Because Steve had _asked_ Chin for help. Just thinking about that made his heart clench. He took a swallow of beer. “Come on, spill. You’ve been a cop for almost six months. You’ve got to have at least one good story already.”

“Oh, yeah.” Kono settled back in her chair. “Last Tuesday, I got assigned a complaint. Turns out this lady used to have a thing with her neighbor across the street, but they broke it off three months ago. Now she’s mad because he keeps sneaking over and taking eggs out of her chicken coop.”

“She called 911 because he was stealing eggs?” One of Danny’s homicide cases had started as a fight over a case of beer. It never failed to amaze him how some people would go to extremes over really trivial crap.

“Oh, no. She called 911 because she’d set up two security cameras to catch him in the act. She handed me three thumb drives full of videos.” Kono grinned, and took another pull of her beer. “Since I had proof, I arrested him for trespassing _and_ burglary.”

“You arrested who for trespassing and burglary?” Big Ed asked, as he stepped outside, followed by Lou, Kara Boyd, and several of the new detectives.

Kono had to tell the story again, and everyone got a good laugh out of it. Big Ed raised his beer, gesturing toward Lou. “Tell them about the horse.”

“OK, this happened back in Chicago.” Lou sat down on another folding chair. “The winter crud’s going around, so most of my guys have called out sick, and it’s one of _those_ Friday nights.”

Everyone nodded, because they’d all worked those Friday nights, where the call turn-around time was hours instead of minutes, and every other call from dispatch seemed to turn into an incident that tied multiple officers up.

More people drifted out to the lanai; some guys from SWAT, a handful from Homicide and Burglary, the last two of the new detectives.

“So as I was saying, I’m the sarge, but calls are stacking. I assign myself a patrol car, and clear a couple of calls. I had just pulled over to do my paperwork, when this guy comes running up, all excited. I get him calmed down, and he tells me some guy stole his horse.”

He stopped, and shook his head. “I still have no idea why this idiot was riding a horse around downtown Chicago at 1:30 in the morning. Anyway, he got off the horse for some reason, and another guy climbed on it and took right off.”

Lou took a sip of his beer. “He told me which direction the horse-thief went, so I head that way, and sure enough, there’s some college kid, drunk as a skunk, riding the horse right down Dearborn Street. I didn’t know what the hell else to do, so I put on my lights, and damn if the kid didn’t pull over.”

Danny laughed. This was what he missed about being a cop--all the crazy, insane shit that they had to put up with. “So what did you wind up charging him with?”

”Well, I noticed the horse had a small nick on one of its legs--so I just wrote him up for animal cruelty.” He took a long swig of beer. “Ended up having to go to court for that one, too.”

Amy poked her head out. “The food’s ready.” 

Everyone began filing back into the house. Danny took a minute to finish his beer, his gaze going to Steve and Chin who were now sitting side by side in the backyard.

“I can take that.” Amy held her hand out for the empty bottle, her gaze following his. “He’s lucky to have you.”

“No.” Danny shook his head. “I’m the lucky one.”

~~+~~

It turned out to be a great party. More and more cops showed up as the night wore on, including a handful of retired officers. Danny had a feeling a few of them were just there to check out the haole from the mainland who was training new detectives. Most, though, were like Harry Brown.

Harry was a retired detective who went out of his way to make Danny feel welcome. He was also a character, who could put away a lot of beer and had plenty of tales to tell about the old days. As for Steve, he and Chin made one brief appearance during the party, coming in to get plates of food, before disappearing outside again.

A few cops exchanged glances at that, and Harry gave Danny a questioning look. He just shrugged, and Harry took the hint, and launched into a hilarious story about the time him and another officer had to subdue a naked perp who was robbing a convenience store.

The caterers eventually packed the food up at ten, and the beer ran out at ten-thirty. At eleven, Kara Boyd and Big Ed started shepherding the last stragglers out the door, and Danny sent Chin a text, letting him know that the party was over. Meka, meanwhile pressed Lou and Kono into helping take chairs and tables to the garage, so they could be hauled back to the Academy tomorrow.

“Kitchen’s clean.” Amy came out of the kitchen. “I had the caterers put some of the leftovers in the fridge.”

“Thank you--for everything.”

“You can thank me by letting us invite you over sometime.” She turned as Chin and Steve walked in. “Hey, Steve. I was just telling Danny here that you need to come over for dinner sometime.”

He glanced sideways at Danny. “OK.”

“Brah, I know Danny’s a slacker,” Kono looked pointedly at Steve, “But are you really just going to stand there, and let me do all the work?”

He glanced at Danny again, but went over to assist her with the table.

Chin smiled down at Danny. “Guess I better help too, huh?”

It should have felt a little awkward, sitting there while everyone else finished folding chairs and tables, carrying them to the garage--and pushing the furniture back into place. But Kono kept teasing him and first Meka, and then Lou, joined in. And he also suspected that while Steve was obviously tired, he was also enjoying being able to help.

Chin and Lou shoved the last piece of furniture--the couch--into its spot, and then everyone said their goodbyes. Danny shut the door, rolled over to the couch, and turned on the lamp. He glanced over at Steve, as he locked his wheels, transferred to the couch. “Steve? Turn off the light, and come over here.”

Steve clicked the overhead light off, walked over. Instead of sitting, he stretched out. Laid his head in Danny’s lap, and closed his eyes. 

“Babe?” Danny laid his left hand on Steve’s chest, and he could feel how tense Steve was. “Thank you. I had fun tonight.”

Steve gave a small nod.

He ran the fingers of his right hand through Steve’s hair for a couple of minutes, the tips of his fingers occasionally brushing across the small half moon ridge on the right side of Steve’s head. 

Steve began to relax. He finally opened his eyes, and moved his hand, dropping it over Danny’s left hand. He spoke slowly, over-enunciating. “So you… you surf? With me?”

Danny blinked, and his hand stilled. He wasn’t exactly fond of water, or swimming--though he’d certainly spent enough time in the water the past couple of years, thanks to PT. But Steve was actually _asking_ for something. “Sure, babe. Now my guys have graduated, I’ll see if I can take a Friday off, and go surfing with you.”

Steve smiled, and threaded his fingers through Danny's.

"You want to know what I said to Amy today? I told her I'm a lucky guy." Danny saw the question in Steve's eyes--and he let his hand trail through Steve's hair again. "Yes, you goof, of course I meant it. Didn't I just promise to go surfing with you? In the _ocean_ , which happens to have sharks and jellyfish and other dangerous swimmy things."

And for the second time that evening, he felt his heart stutter as Steve grinned up at him.

~~+~~


End file.
